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The Sun God
To the tune of Winged Hussars by Sabaton, and a battle about said song. Song WHEN THE SUN GOD SOL ARRIVED Users tired in mind and body, the war taking its toll Months of dealing with a troll Sent a message to the sun, rallying against the lie Will they hold the chat or will the wiki fall Dao wrecking Dao wrecking They're outnumbered thirty to one Yet the kicking's begun WHEN THE SUN GOD SOL ARRIVED AND THE ANATHEMA FRIED WHEN THE SUN GOD SOL ARRIVED BLAZING DOWN HE TURNED THE TIDE As the days are passing by and the sockpuppets are piling high All destined for damnation One down another takes up the Shiny crown Enough of this idiocy, yet they do not stop Dao banning Dao banning It's a dreadful crime To see this idiot all the time WHEN THE SUN GOD SOL ARRIVED AND THE ANATHEMA FRIED WHEN THE SUN GOD SOL ARRIVED BLAZING DOWN HE TURNED THE TIDE Fireballs are coming down on Ba Dao Anathema are you ready to die? We will seek our vengeance eye for an eye You're stories are not even second rate In this chat you're only facing our hate But elsewhere Wikia is sealing your fate We remember In September When the Anathema joined Yet now Ba Dao is ruined SolZen, fire and adminship The Sun God made him RIP (rust in pieces) Battle (Editor note: The following is getting Meta...as if you couldn't tell...) The conflict had raged for so long now, too long and for the Users it had taken its toll. The warriors of the fortress called the Chat. These warriors of the elvish race (think Tolkien elves) wore eagle themed yellow ornate plate armor, wielded crystal bladed weapons. Their gothic castle fortress was marked by several enchantments, runes carved into every stone and brick, with near invisible lines of energy connecting them that made both physically and spiritually impenetrable. However, the foe they face would test that theory. Approaching the castle was the trolls, the puppet army of the Anathema, who rose on the back of a diseased ridden drake, a flightless lizard. The elf like being wore white garments and sported purple locks and purple eyes. His army was far less pansy in appearance. They were trolls, of the form of the Editors but warped and twisted. Where Editors were humanoid, they were often hunched over, where Editors were handsome, they had ram horns and tusks. Where Editors where armor of craftsmanship, they wore rust pieces of metal tied onto, bolted to, or simply stabbed into their flesh. Many of the pieces had enchantment of their own, but the energy was different. Where the magic of the Editors was blue and bright, this energy was green, sickly, like a sickness energized. The commander looked at the approaching host and pondered what to do. He was all out of dragons, they had fallen fighting the hordes. Yet he could not retreat, this was the last fortress holding them back, yet they were so vastly outnumbered. "Do not fear..." said a priest "We need only call upon one of the Admins..." He wore robes of black and red, and carried a staff that held a red gem with a black line resembling an eye. "You think they will come now...?" asked the commander. "They need be but called...but it will take time..." "They will be here on the morrow...do it..." "Yes, but which one...?" "Zombiejiger...?" "You would call the lord of undeath...?" "I would chose him over the anathema any day...but I see your point...Akreious...?" The two looked at each other as cold shivers ran up their spines. "Nevermind..." "I can think of but one most suited for this situation..." "Who...?" "Who else...?" The commander paused for a moment. "So be it...tomorrow let the sun rise and let the scourge taste our swords, and their master his fate!" The two left. The Commander readied his defenses, positioned his men and made ready battle plans. The priest gathered his fellows and they gathered together to moderate a line between the mortal realm and an admin. And the scourge marched. The morning came and the field was set for battle. The Editors had formed their battle patterns and set up their shield wall. The scourge waited for no reason other than their master's command. Which he gave willingly. The beasts charged, swinging their crude weapons, slamming into the wall of shields and spears. At the very start first blood went to the editors as their crystal spears pierced and burnt the flesh of their enemies. A needed addition as they learned the walking plague regenerated. Trolls were stabbed in the eye, in the face, the heart, the jaw. The Editors gave no quarter, for none would be given. The Editors held the line, exchanging with those behind them when the began to get tired. In this way did the keep them at bay, advancing as one to stop the bodies from pilling up. From the towers, arrows were fired, and ballistas which fired bolts of energy into the mass of trolls. Little by little, shot by shot, they withered down the great beast that was the horde, but even so it was a massive one. In the end, their goal was victory on the battlefield, it was to stall for time. Time the anathema was not keen to give. Annoyed at the lack of progress the wicked one stood up from his chair and channeled the currents of magic, warping the spectral stuff around him into a sickly green energy that he fired at the walls and the defenders, as bolts of lightning or spheres of energy. Gone was the ballistas, and shattered was the formation. The trolls pressed their advantage slaughter all they could. They tore apart, crushed, sliced and stabbed. The foul tide would have swept away the defenders had the commander not charged forward. In his hands was a great sword an enchanted blade called the Tear of Sol. Its handle was as the wings of a bird, its blade was carved, shaped crystal with runes etched within. Small orbs of energy arose and were absorbed back into the blade as he held it, and between the orbs was ribbons, lines of energy and the image that was seen between the lines of energy shimmered and flickered like a mirage, only the runes stayed constant. He ran forward from the broken shield wall and swung his blade, cutting a troll in twine, from shoulder to hip. Then another, across the waist.. He sliced another cutting his crude club in half splitting open his rib cage for its contents to split out. Then another, and another, with each swing the blade went through matter like a hot knife through butter. The commander roared to the high heavens and raised not just his voice but also the spirits of his men. "For the admins...!" he shouted "for the sanctity of the Wiki...!" They roared with him and they charged fighting with unyielding grit. No soldier of the Wiki went down alone, if he perished at the hands of the troll, he made sure to take the beast down with him. The commander kept slicing his way through the enemy ranks, his contempt, his anger keeping his energy up. Until he approached the beast and its rider. With one swing he released a wave of energy that struck down all the trolls and the beast, but its rider was unharmed. Annoyed the anathema shot lightning from his hands, which the commander blocked with his sword. The two energies created a warped space around him as the two powers fought. "You think you can beat me, with that bright sword...?" said the anathema, smug "all that is shiny is mine!" "The word is not yours..." said the commander with contempt. With that a troll came up from behind him and stabbed him in the back. He gasped, but as he looked up, he smirked, and fell dead. The beast that slew him picked up his sword and cheered, and the others around him cheered, but it would not have its prize. Sensing what held it, the sword acted, and the energies that wrapped around the blade turned on the new wielder, turning flesh to ash, turn armor to slag and made bones as charcoal. The trolls around him were left shock, as was the Anathema for they had not yet encountered anything their foul magic could not corrupt. So it was that the commander fell, but he fell knowing his side had won. Excerpt from the diary of a soldier at the battle of Chat. "When the commander fell I thought all was lost, even if the trolls could not take up his sword, what hope did we have with out it. Yet that was when it happened. Many of us had wondered where the priests were, now when we needed them, against so massive a horde, but we soon learned. I have seen magic, I have seen the currents of magic that spell casters channel and use to warp the fabric of creation as it suits them, but not like this. From the castle fired a beam of light, brightest I had ever seen. It shot up in the air and disappeared, seconds later I noticed it, we all did, a golden light shining down upon us. I felt my injuries, my scratches, my aching joints all melt away, but the trolls and their master only felt the sting of the sun. The light came down as a golden orb, like the sun that rose and fell, but without the harsh boiling heat. This did not look to be a mass of magic, but a source. Then it stood up, and was a man of metal crystal armor, akin to the design of bird wings. On his chest was a disc and his eyes were bright and luminous and all about his person burned. Yet, the ground beneath his feet was covered in flowers and new growth from the soil. And the giant spoke saying 'I HAVE COME UPON THE WIKI AND WITH MY TWO FEET TAKEN POSSESSION!' It was clear to us now who this was, this was he who we called 'Sun God'. This was an admin, this was Sol and he had made clear who was in charge. The Anathema, however, would not have it, he charged up his attacks and fired bolt after bolt of the sickly green energy. As he expended his energy it became clear the truth of the matter. Gone was the pretty boy looks the pansy presented himself as, that glamour faded as he used more an more energy to attack, in its place was the truth, a troll, a hunched over, troll with rust spikes upon his back, and several tusks large and small poking out of his lower jaw, many of which were broken. He was a frail looking thing, and clearly needed his power to do more than just look presentable. All of his struggles mattered not. Sol was before us, and no troll dared approach for his presence was death to their nauseating existence. Each bolt was stopped and burned away in his flaming aura, and Sol grew tired of it all. He raised his hand and clenched his fist, streams of flames arcing to it, surrounding it, forming a little sun. Then the opened his hand, and let loose a golden wave of light. The trolls were destroyed, turned to ash and then less than that. Never before have I seen a blast so powerful, so absolute and I doubt I will ever seen a blast that will rival such an act. The trolls were gone and only their master remained, on the burnt ground huddled up, his garments blown off. Sol reach down and grabbed the cretin and it screamed and cursed at the pain of his fire. "YOU, I WILL NOT SUFFER EVEN YOUR REMAINS TO POLLUTE MY WIKI. FOR YOU I KNOW A PUNISHMENT MOST DESERVING!" He said. Sol was gone, he rose up on a beam of light and returned from whence he came carrying the anathema. I know not what punishment awaited the monster at the hands of the Admins, but I know he deserved it." Sol arrived in the realm of the admins, a castle of starry black upon a landscape of twirling and twisting tide of blue energy and particles. Each brick was held in existence by a rune, and each building joined together to create a city sized palace. It into this place that he walked carrying the anathema and he entered a room that radiated darkness. "Unhand me tyrant...!" the little thing shouted. He cursed and insulted him, but Sol ignored his juvenile tactics until he stopped walking. "You are hardly worth me time you emotional vampire. But here, here you will find the contempt that you do not want..." "You think I'm afraid of you...?!" "It hardly matters, I do not like to sully my hands with things so disgusting as you, but I have a friend whose stomach has far more grit than mine. Z! I HAVE BROUGHT YOU A MEAL...!" He shouted into the dark. Out of it came something grey and eldritch and thoroughly amused. Its tentacle reached for Sol's hand as he stretched it out. "NO, NO, NOOOOOO!" Were the anathema's last words. Category:Parodies Category:Zombiejiger Category:Songs Category:SolZen321 Category:Completed Works